


the brighter sun and the easier lays

by goodbye_yellowbrickroad



Series: good old-fashioned lover boys [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1972, Angst, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of conversion therapy, New Year's Eve, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 09:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodbye_yellowbrickroad/pseuds/goodbye_yellowbrickroad
Summary: “How beautiful you are,” is what Roger wanted to say as John woke slowly, the morning sun painting his features, making him look more ethereal than ever. “How beautiful you are.” He could say it if he really wanted to — and he did really want to. It toed the line between an intimate friendship and something more, it was dangerous, but if he didn’t think too hard about it then he could just say it.





	the brighter sun and the easier lays

_“How beautiful you are,”_ is what Roger wanted to say as John woke slowly, the morning sun painting his features, making him look more ethereal than ever. “ _How beautiful you are.”_ He could say it if he really wanted to — and he did really want to. It toed the line between an intimate friendship and something more, it was dangerous, but if he didn’t think too hard about it then he could just _say it._

“Good morning,” he said instead.

John smiled, eyes crinkling. “Good morning,” he said, then added, “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“That it is,” Roger said. “Very observant of you.”

John leaned his forehead against Roger’s bare chest. “What’re you doing for Christmas?” he asked.

“Not sure,” Roger said and he his shoulders shrugged.

“We could, uh,” John began, “we could spend Christmas together? Maybe with Freddie and Brian, too?”

Roger smiled. “That would be nice. I’d really like that.”

John returned his smile. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Roger said without hesitation and without putting much thought into it.

John kissed Roger, chastely at first but then he kissed him deeper, pressing his naked body to Roger’s. He went on kissing him, thinking all the while that there was no place in the whole wide world that he would rather be.

***

It hadn’t been very hard to convince Freddie and Brian that the four of them should spend Christmas Day together. It made sense; John’s family was away in Scotland, Roger really had no desire whatsoever to see his own parents, Brian’s family lived a couple hours away and he didn’t have enough money to visit them, and Freddie said he’d go to see his parents later in the day when Mary was through with her shift at work and they could go together.

Brian offered up his apartment since they hardly ever gathered there so he figured it was high time that he play host.

“You know, we’ve never hung out at _your_ apartment,” Brian said to Roger pointedly.

“You’re damn right we haven’t,” Roger said. “Because if we did we’d have to share forks as I only have, like, two.”

“I’m starting to worry, boys,” Freddie sighed.

The other three looked at him, puzzled.

“Oh?” Brian said. “Any reason in particular?”

“The album, of course!” Freddie exclaimed. “No one wants to release it.”

“Well, it’s only been a month or so,” Brian said, shrugging. “Just… be easy, Fred. It’ll all be okay. This things take time.”

“Be optimistic,” John said, smiling.

“You can be optimistic,” Freddie huffed. “I’ll remember reality.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say, Fred. Just try to enjoy Christmas, won’t you?”

Freddie made a snide comment beneath his breath and as Brian and Fred fell into a fit of bickering, John leaned over to Roger. “Will you help me with the roast?” he asked.

John has offered to do the cooking for Christmas dinner.

“Yeah,” Roger said, nodding.

The two of them got up onto their feet and slipped into the kitchen, escaping Brian and Freddie’s notice altogether.

“What do you need me to do?” Roger asked.

“Start chopping the carrots, please,” John said.

“Gotcha,” Roger said and he set to work. “So, uh, what’re you doing tonight? Like, after Brian and Freddie have had enough of seeing each other for the day.”

“Oh, I’ll probably just go home,” John said.

“Ah,” Roger said.

“Or… I could not do that?” John said.

“That’s true!” Roger said, nodding. “There are so many options, really, I mean the world is your oyster! You could go home, sure, or you could go somewhere else. You could go to a bar or a club!”

“I could go to the park,” John said, humored, smiling. “Or shopping.”

“ _Or_ ,” Roger said, getting closer and closer to John so that his mouth was right up against John’s ear. He dropped his voice to a whisper and he said, “Or you could come round mine and I could fuck you into my mattress.”

  
John’s breath hitched. He turned his head so that he was looking into Roger’s eyes. “That’s certainly an option.”

Roger quirked an eyebrow upward.

“Are you offering?” John asked.

  
“Obviously,” Roger chuckled. “Are you accepting my offer?”

“ _Obviously,_ ” John said, smiling.

“Excellent,” Roger said. He looked to the door, checking to make sure no one was there, watching, and when he was satisfied with what he found he leaned in and kissed John quickly. After that, he went back to chopping up the carrots for the roast.

“This is rather domestic,” John mused, laughing, as he opened up the oven to check on the food.

Roger’s hand jerked and he narrowly avoided chopping off his own finger. “W-what?” he spluttered and coughed.

“What?” John looked at him, brow furrowed. “We’re cooking together, you’re seducing me, and you —”

“We’re not _dating,_ ” Roger said as if the mere idea of them dating was preposterous and disturbing.

  
“I — I know that, Rog,” John said, frowning. “I — it was just a joke. I’m sorry.” He shut the oven door and moved to the fridge to look for something that he needed for the roast.

  
“John,” Roger said.

  
“I can handle the roast by myself,” John said, head stuck in the fridge.

Roger sighed, moving toward him. “ _Deaky,_ I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m sorry.”

John took his face out of the fridge, looked into Roger’s face, and said, “It’s fine. Just drop it.”

“Clearly it’s not —”

_Beep, beep. Beep, beep. Beep, beep._

“Food’s about to be ready,” John said, snapping the fridge shut and striding past Roger to retrieve the pan from the oven. “Go on and tell the others, won’t you?”

Roger sighed. “Yeah. I will.”

Dinner was fine. Well, it wasn’t dinner, really because it was only three in the afternoon, but Mary was coming round to pick Freddie up at five and they were going to see Freddie’s parents and then they had to go see Mary’s parents, so they were eating dinner — or a late and very fancy lunch, as one may call it — now. And it was fine. The food was more than fine, it was delicious even! But Freddie and Brian couldn’t so much as look at each other without another argument breaking out about the album or about Freddie’s new song or about life as a whole. And then there was John. He would look at Roger, sure, and he was speaking to him, yeah, but he was doing so considerably less than he usually would. John was keeping himself deep in conversation with Freddie, for the most part, while Brian and Roger just sat by and listened and occasionally rolled their eyes.

When a honking horn could be heard coming from outside the apartment building, Freddie rose to his feet and said, “Well, loves, I must be off. I’ll see you all on Wednesday. Goodbye, Roger.”

“Bye, Fred,” Roger said.

“Have a wonderful evening, Deaky,” Freddie gushed. “Your cooking was amazing, as always. I hope you have a truly wonderful holiday.”

“Thank you,” John said and he smiled warmly. (Brian and Roger exchanged a look of utter exasperation.) “Have a good night, Freddie. Give Mary and your parents my best, yeah?”

  
“I will,” Freddie said, nodding. “Well, goodbye!” he said and turned to leave.

  
“Um,” Brian scoffed. “Have a good night, Fred!”

“Oh, I plan to!” Freddie called back and he snapped the door shut behind himself.

“Unbelievable,” Brian huffed.

  
“Roger,” John said.

Roger looked up hopefully. “Yes?”

“Can you take me home, please?” John asked. “I’m tired.”

Roger sighed. “Yeah.”

“Happy Christmas,” Brian said. “You two have a nice night.”

“You as well, Bri,” John said. “Thanks for having us all over.”

“Of course, anytime,” Brian said, nodding. “Thank you for cooking.”

“My pleasure,” John said, smiling.

  
“Goodnight, Bri,” Roger said.

“Night, Roger,” Brian said, waving.

The drive to John’s apartment was silent. The air in the van was heavy, weighing down on them like it was made of a solid instead of a gas all of a sudden.

Roger parked the van in front of John’s apartment and before the younger man could run away he cried, “Deaky, wait!”

  
“What, Roger?” John huffed.

“Please, talk to me?”

  
John frowned. “Yeah, I guess.”

Roger breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Listen, John, I just — I don’t know. I got freaked out for, like, a second. I’m still sort of afraid of Freddie and Brian finding out — you know — about this thing we’ve got going on but —”

“Of course you are,” John bit out, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

Roger frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” John said.

“Well, it’s obviously not _nothing,_ ” Roger said.

“Would people knowing about you being with me in a _sexual way_ really be so bad?” John snapped, bursting suddenly and without warning. “Am I really such an _embarrassment_ to — to your _image,_ Roger? Is the idea of dating me so repulsive that you had to get defensive earlier when I made a simple joke?!”

“J-John, where is this coming from?” Roger asked.

“Just answer me,” John said through his teeth, trying to blink back the tears that were forming in his eyes and failing miserably.

  
Roger gaped at him, made to reach out and wipe his tears away before thinking better of it. “No, John — _no,_ that’s not it. I’m just —” he sighed, looking down at his hands. “I — am — scared. It’s not the sixties, anymore, it’s not like it used to be but —”

“You think I don’t know that, Roger?” John spoke over him. “You met my parents! You saw what they’re like! Do I have to tell you exactly what I went through after they found out to make you believe that _I know how you feel_ or —”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Roger said, shaking his head. “I’ve told you, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want —”

“I’m scared of people finding out, too!” John cried. “But Brian and Freddie are our friends, they _love us!_ And so if I’m okay with them _maybe_ finding out — if I don’t think it’s the end of the world — then I can’t see how it’s such a big deal for —”

  
“Deaky, can you just listen to me a second?” Roger frowned.

  
“Unless it’s that you’re ashamed of _me_ — that you think being with _me_ is repulsive and —”

“Deaky, my parents found out, too!” Roger cried.

John stopped and stared at Roger for a long while, his thoughts travelling far too quickly for him to properly keep up with them. “Rog, I —” he began, didn’t know what to say. He settled for reaching over and holding his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Roger said, shaking his head. “God, please don’t be sorry.”

John sighed. “We should talk.”

“Yeah,” Roger said, nodding.

“Would you like to come inside?” John asked.

Roger nodded. “Let’s go.”

And so, in they went. They settled on opposite ends of the couch, facing one another, neither of them looking particularly ready for the conversation at hand. Both of them, however, accepted that it was a conversation that needed to be had.

“So,” John said slowly. “You’re… not repulsed by me.”

“No,” Roger said quickly. “No! No. Not at all.”

John breathed a sigh of relief. “Right.”

“John… Deaky…” Roger said. He drew his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs. “I was sixteen.”

John looked at him, eyebrows raised.

Roger was avoiding John’s gaze, staring pointedly down at the carpeted sitting room floor. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still thick, like he was trying not to cry. Which, he probably was. “Yeah, I was sixteen. They were out for the night, see. My parents, I mean. And there was this boy who — I’d been seeing him, sort of. We weren’t dating because neither of us wanted to call it that but — but we kind of were. And so he was over because my parents were gone, I had the house to myself, and —” he paused and laughed humorlessly to himself. “It was so fucking cheesy. Nothing like I’d ever done for anyone before, but I really liked this guy, you know? He was… _wonderful._ So he was coming over and I — I set out _candles._ It’s — it’s ridiculous, I know, it’s _stupid,_ but —”

“It’s not,” John said, shaking his head.

“Hm?” Roger said.

“It’s not stupid,” John said and he seemed sincere. He usually was. “It’s lovely, Rog.”

Roger smiled at him, a tight smile that was just a little too forced. “Thanks,” he said. “So, yeah. Candles. I put candles all over my bedroom. Every candle in the house that I could find, it went in my room and I lit them all and turned off my lamp. And he got there and he’d given his older sister some cash, she’d gone to the liquor store for him.” He smiled again, this time a genuine smile. His eyes fell shut and he could see it all playing like a movie in his mind. “He brought a bottle of wine for us to have. A _nice_ bottle of wine, too. He worked at a gas station and that bottle must’ve cost him two weeks pay…” he trailed off, deep in thought.

After a few moments of silence had passed by, John dared to ask, “What was his name?”

Roger’s eyes opened and he took a moment to comprehend what had been asked of him. He smile faded a little, but it was still there, tugging the corners of his mouth upward if only slightly. “Sebastian. Seb, I called him.”

John smiled.

“I took a couple glasses out of the kitchen and we went up to my room,” Roger said, letting his eyes close once more. “He liked the candles. He told me that he did. So we had some wine and we kissed. We kissed some more, and got undressed, and then kissed _some more._ And then we —” Roger opened his eyes and, to John’s surprise, he laughed. Not humorlessly this time, but genuinely. “Oh, we — we _made love,_ you see!” He laughed again, and it sounded as if he were making fun of himself. “It sounds cheesy and disgusting to say it like that but it’s true, because it wasn’t just fucking. This was the first guy — the first _person_ — who I really liked, who I really wanted to be intimate with instead of just fuck them senseless…” he sighed. “He was holding onto me, and I was holding onto him, for dear life! We were moving together, as one and —” he stopped, frowned deeply. “My parents got home. They heard us, I guess, but Seb and I, neither of us heard them walk in the house. So my dad came upstairs, ready to yell at me for having a girl over I suppose. He burst in the room and —”

“Rog,” John said softly.

“There was screaming,” Roger said, squeezing his eyes shut. “So much screaming. Seb fled the house, quickly. I told him to go. My dad, though, he recognized him from church. Knew who his parents were and he rang them to tell them what he’d seen.”

John frowned.

Roger opened his eyes again, looked to John. “He kept me up all night long, just — just _screaming_ how I was — I was — well, I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.”

John clasped his hands together, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I can… I came home that day, after school. And my dad, he said, right off, ‘We had a meeting with your headmaster today.’” He paused and he sniffled.

Roger looked into John’s face, frowning. He moved himself closer on the couch, holding onto John’s hands.

John sighed. “My dad, he lectured me for two, maybe three hours about God and about _decency_ and — and all the while my mother just sat there and she _cried._ ” He remembered how she had cried, he could imagine it so vividly. John was crying. “And then when my father had finished tearing me a new asshole, she just — she pulled me toward her. She was sat in her chair and — and she pulled me toward her, I knelt down in front of her a-and she held onto me and she said, ‘E-everything going to be okay, J-Johnny’. And for a — for a _second_ I thought that she was right, you know?” He sniffled again and viciously tried to wipe away his tears with one hand, refusing to let go of Roger’s hand entirely. “I thought she s-still _loved me._ And I think she does — I _th-think_ she does — b-but not in the same way… n-not anymore.”

Roger frowned, holding on his hand a little tighter. “What did she say?”

John sobbed suddenly.

“You don’t have to —” Roger leant forward, holding onto John’s shoulder with his free hand.

“She — she said that she could fix me!” John cried in between the sobs that wracked his body. “And I —” he snorted, “ — I was such an — an _i-idiot!_ I — I looked in-into h-her face and I said, ‘There’s nothing wrong wi-with me! There’s nothing to be fixed!’” He laughed coldly at his own foolishness. “She just shook her head and — and said, ‘J-John, I love you, you — you are the s-sun and the — the stars…’” John screwed his eyes shut, his tears falling faster, doing all that he could to hold back the sob that was forming in his chest. “‘But you… you are _b-broken,_ ’ she said. ‘You need to be fixed, you — you are s-so bro-broken.’”

“ _Deaky_ ,” Roger said thickly, cupping John’s face in his hands.

“I’ve — I’ve never told a- _anyone_ about that day,” John said on a sharp exhale. He tried to steady his breathing, tried not to let the sobs building higher and higher inside of him make an appearance on the outside.

Roger frowned, moving his thumb in circles over John’s cheek. “They…” he began, then stopped, considering what he was about to say. Tried to gauge if it was too much. Once he’d decided, he said, “They sent me away.”

John looked at him, frowning and still sniffling. “What? To, like, boarding school?”

“No,” Roger said, shaking his head. “No, I wish.”

John tilted his head. “What do you —“

“They sent me away,” Roger said again. “To a camp.”

“A… camp,” John breathed.

“Yeah,” Roger said, nodding.

“Like — like conversion therapy?” John frowned deeply. “Like a conversion therapy camp?”

“Not like conversion therapy,” Roger sighed, shaking his head. “Not _like_ it, it _was_ it. It was conversion therapy. I was gone a whole summer.”

“R-Roger,” John said. “That’s _awful._ ”

Roger forced a smile. “It was a dark time for me, yeah, I won’t lie… But I just — I don’t know. I didn’t fight them. I didn’t fight back. I just let them say what they were going to say and I pretended like I agreed and for some people that didn’t work. For some people, that created a weak spot — an Achilles’ heel — and the counselors and therapists got to them through that crack in their armor. But for me, it was okay. I just let them think I was turning my life around, let them think I was really into it all and that I wanted to impress them and my parents and _God_ and so they let me go home at the end of it all.”

John didn’t know what to say.

“So that’s why,” Roger said in a softer voice than John had ever heard him speak with. “That’s why I’m afraid. And I’m sorry because I know you went through shit with your parents and I know you’ve handled all of that so much better than I have and you’re so much braver than I am, John, so much better, you’re so good —”

“Rog, no, I —”

“But I am _scared,_ John,” Roger breathed. “I’m so _scared._ ”

“I know, Roger,” John said, frowning. “I’m scared, too, and I — I’m sorry that I made assumptions. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions, thought that you didn’t have any type of experience like the one I had. I just think that Freddie and Brian would, like, be okay. With all of it. I don’t know, you’ve known them longer than I have but I _have_ known them for, like, a couple of years and… I just think they love us a lot and they’re more open to things than you may give them credit for.”  
“There’s no doubt in my mind that they’d still love us both the same as they always have,” Roger said. “But there’s some part of me that still never, ever wants them to find out.”

John sighed. “Yeah, I get it.” He smiled. “Just don’t snap at me for some dumb joke from here on out, yeah?”

Roger smiled. “Yeah,” he laughed softly.

 _If only,_ John thought. _If only it was just some dumb joke._

***

They were drunk. Well, what else was new?

It was a week later, New Year’s Eve, and they were very, very drunk. Drunk enough that they were dancing together — nothing to intimate, too sexy, too steamy, but they were dancing together all the same and Roger didn’t seem to mind at all. Roger was the one who pulled John out and onto the dance floor, Roger was the one held onto him and started moving, and Roger was the one who noticed the two guys with their tongues in each others’ mouth. And Roger was the one who grabbed John’s hand and pulled him from the room.

“Rog, where’re we goin’?” John slurred, stumbling over thin air.

“Bathroom,” was Roger’s reply.

They were at someone’s house — they didn’t really know whose it was. Brian knew the guy, got invited to his New Year’s Eve celebration, asked if he could bring his bandmates along.

Roger snapped the door shut behind the two of them, locked it, and then he was on John, kissing and licking into his mouth. He pushed John up against the door, slotting one of his legs in between the bassist’s thighs.

“Mm,” John moaned. “Rog.”

Roger broke away and glanced downward. “Well, well, well,” he said, smirking. “Someone’s happy to see me.”

John huffed out a short laugh. “Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?” he said, snaking his hand down Roger’s body and cupping the drummer’s erection through his jeans.

Roger chuckled. “Are we really gonna do this, hm?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow up. “Fuck in a bathroom?”

“Not gonna fuck,” John said. He shook his head, pressing his palms flat against Roger’s chest. “That’d be trashy, Rog. But I’m gonna suck you off.”

Roger sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah, Deaky?”

“Fuck, yeah,” John said, nodding, pushing Roger backwards. “Sit,” he requested.

Roger did, on the edge of the tub. He watched John sink to his knees, in between his legs. Watched as he sank very slowly down to his knees.

John reached for the button of Roger’s trousers (a pair of black satin things, patterned with colorful birds), undoing it slowly. “Hey, Roger?” he said, halting in his movements and looking up into his friend’s face. “Is this okay? I — I never asked.”

A crooked grin found its way onto Roger’s features. “More than okay, Deaky.”

“Okay,” John breathed a sigh of relief. “You good?” he asked.

  
“ _So_ _good,_ ” Roger purred and he nodded. “I’d be even better if you’d go ahead and take my pants off,” he added, batting his long lashes. “Take my pants off, _please._ ”

  
John grinned. “You’re cute when you flutter your eyes like that,” he said in an affectionate tone. “You’ve got such pretty eyelashes.”

  
Roger’s breath hitched. “ _John…_ ” he breathed, because he didn’t know how else to react to John talking about his _pretty eyelashes._

  
John took Roger’s exhale of his name more as a request that he get on with it, though. “Okay, okay,” he said. He yanked the bird-patterned trousers down Roger’s legs. He kissed Roger’s knee once and smirked as he admitted, “I like the pants.”

  
A breathy laugh escaped Roger’s lips. “I guess I should wear them more often then.”

  
John nodded. “You,” he said, looking up at his friend through thick lashes, “are so hot.”

Roger’s breath shook. “Y-yeah? You, too.”

  
John snorted, but instead of responding he leaned forward and licked a stripe up Roger’s length before wrapping his lips around the head.

  
Roger’s breath hitched. He gripped the lip of the tub, searching for some sort of leverage but the bathtub was smooth and hard to hold onto. “J-John — _oh!_ ”

  
John pulled off with an obscene _pop_ and looked up at Roger with a grin. “Do you like that, sweetheart?” he asked in teasing sort of way.

  
“Wh-what — ‘ _sweetheart_ ’?” Roger said, blushing.

John blushed, too.

Roger shook his head, pushed that from his mind from now. “Please, John,” he whined.

  
John nodded fast and wrapped his lips around Roger’s length again, slowly lowering his mouth over it until he reached the base. He looked up at Roger and _good god,_ somehow the way he batted his lashes looked so goddamn innocent even with a cock down his throat.

  
“Shit, Deaks,” Roger hissed and he choked as John’s throat fluttered around his dick. He carded his fingers through John’s hair, gripped, and tugged, drawing a noise like that of a strangled animal out of John.

  
John pulled off of him. “Rog —”

  
“John, come on —”

  
“Okay, okay,” John said, nodding. “Just — please — just, pull on my hair some more.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Please._ Yeah.”

Roger nodded. “Yeah… yeah.”

  
John grinned and sealed his mouth around Roger’s cock for a third time, beginning to move at a pace that was just so plainly unfair that Roger didn’t stand a chance — not with John staring up at him like that while he bobbed his head up and down Roger’s dick and break-neck speed.

  
“Deaky — John, I — yes yes _yes!_ ”

  
Roger dissolved into a stammering mess faster than he ever had before. He held onto John’s hair, knuckles white, tugging hard and scared that he was tugging _too_ hard and not really caring at all at the moment. Unfiltered praises poured from his mouth, vomiting sonnets on par with Shakespeare himself about the heavenly glory to be found in John’s mouth.

“I’m — I’m so close,” Roger moaned out, “oh, holy shit, I’m close — I’m there — I —”

Without taking his eyes off of Roger’s face, and without even flinching, John swallowed around him; he swallowed every drop that Roger spilled down his throat as he moaned loudly, wantonly, around his length.  
“Oh — oh, god, _Deaky,_ ” Roger said, breathing heavy and slumping down push dark hair out of John’s face. “That was hot. That was really fucking hot.”

“Fuck, yeah,” John huffed, leaning in quickly to steal a kiss. “It was.”

“Up,” Roger commanded, tapping his finger on John’s thigh. “I’m gonna give you the best head you’ve ever head.”

John chuckled. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m gonna need a raincheck.”

“Wh—” Roger furrowed his brow, puzzled, but he looked into John’s face, watched him avoid eye contact and turn beet red, and then it dawned on him. “Oh my god, you came in your pants like a fucking teenager, didn’t you.”

John huffed. “Take it as a compliment, babe,” he said, and he kissed him again.

_Babe._

Roger sighed.

“They must be missing us,” John said.

“They’ll survive a few more minutes,” he said, and he kissed his friend once more.

***

 _“How beautiful you are,”_ is what Roger wanted to say as John woke slowly, the morning sun painting his features, making him look more ethereal than ever. “ _How beautiful you are.”_ He could say it if he really wanted to — and he did really want to. It toed the line between an intimate friendship and something more, it was dangerous, but if he didn’t think too hard about it then he could just _say it._

John blinked as he finished waking up. He smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Roger said, smiling and brushing tendrils of hair out of John’s eyes.

“Happy New Year,” John said happily.

“Oh, yeah,” Roger said. “Happy New Year.” He cupped John’s face in one hand and drew circles on his cheek with his thumb. “How beautiful you are,” he croaked.

John’s breath hitched and he looked shocked. His cheeks were brighter than Roger had ever seen them as he smiled and said, in a small voice, “ _Thanks._ ”

Roger sighed. He was so royally fucked.


End file.
